


Ivar's Axe

by ifinkufreaky



Series: Ivar and the Maidens [6]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Improvised Sex Toys, should have known i was the one who was going to write it, should have seen this one coming, when you get a bunch of lusty like-minded women together things tend to escalate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: Ivar asks you to admire his favorite axe. Then things get weird.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this has nothing to do with the other Ivar and the Maidens stories; the collection is just a repository of my random perverted thoughts about our favorite terrible and beautiful son of Ragnar.
> 
> Shoutout to Ivar's Heathen Army over on tumblr dot com for encouraging this sort of ridiculousness. I resisted this idea ALL DAY but you all had to drag me over the edge of sanity and sanitation. I allowed my mind to ponder "under what circumstances would I even consider doing something like this..." and then it was all over. 
> 
> Check the tags; this is what you think it is. Sorry not sorry.

“This is my favorite axe.”

You and Ivar are relaxing in the grass at the edge of the training ground. Almost everyone is done for the day too, though most of those who are left are hanging around on the other side of the field. You two prefer to keep to yourselves.

Ivar flips the weapon in question idly, then holds it in a loose grip as he invites you to admire it. “This one has perfect balance; I never miss with it. The blade holds an edge well, and—“ he chokes up on it, extends the butt end closer to your face, “look at how polished the handle has become.”

It’s a strange thing to admire about a weapon, but you indulge Ivar, leaning closer and taking a look. It’s true, the ash wood positively shines in the evening light, smooth and flawless as a river stone.  

“I never let anyone else use it; I have kept this axe with me for years. It has formed itself to my hands.” He flips it around a few more times, then grasps it by the head and holds it out to you. “I want you to wash it for me,” he commands.

“What?” You are confused, but you only want to make sure you heard him right. You are used to Ivar making odd requests of you; sometimes he does it just to see if you will listen. These little power games would probably annoy another girl, but not you. You often feel like he is testing you, desiring to know the extent of your loyalty, or dedication, and you are eager to prove yourself to him.

His eyes go wide as he inclines his head toward you. Like he can’t believe he has to explain what he just said. “Take it down to the river where you wash your clothes, and wash my axe.” Ivar bounces the handle in front of your face until you take it, the wood warm and smooth under your fingers. Then he sits back and flashes you his most charming grin, the one that usually means you’re about to spend the next hour making out with him in some hidden corner. “And wash yourself, while you’re there. Then meet me in my bed.”

A thrill rushes through you. After weeks of nothing but heavy petting, Ivar finally wants to have sex? You’ll follow pretty much any instructions, no matter how strange, if it means he’s ready to lay down with you, touch you in all the places that you’ve been dreaming of…

He reaches over and taps you on the nose with his finger. “Run along now, y/n. I will be waiting.”

You can’t stop the smile spreading over your face, sweet tension already building between your legs as you stand and turn to go.

“And don’t forget my axe,” he calls after you.

*****

The anticipation has been almost too much to bear. You chose a section of the river to bathe in that was far away from the other girls, wanting to be alone with your thoughts. It was exciting enough to wonder what Ivar would be like in bed, but even the act of bathing beforehand became erotic, because Ivar had told you to do it. Dutifully you soaped up his axe as well, wondering why he added this little extra request. Caring for his weapon was doing things to you, however. As you dried the axe carefully so that it would not rust, you imagined the way his hands were always caressing it, how expert his movements were when he wielded it.

Now you are slipping into his bedchamber, finally alone, and so ready to finally feel his cock slide inside you. Ivar is already there, lying shirtless, propped up on a few pillows on top of the furs. The lamplight gleams off his toned chest; you are distracted by the way his pecs jump as he reaches up and beckons you to come join him.

You step to the side of his bed and let your cloak fall to the floor. Ivar smiles and then holds his hand up, palm open. It takes you a second to remember what he must be asking for. His eyes slide to the gleaming head of his axe, which you have safely tucked into the fabric belting in the waist of your simple tunic-style dress.

You smile and present it to him. “I cleaned your favorite axe very thoroughly, my Prince,” you giggle. “Then I oiled the handle and polished the blade. I hope it pleases you.” You are no slave but it amuses you to play along when Ivar tries to treat you like one.

Ivar holds it between his fingers and makes a show of admiring your work. “Yes, it is very pleasing,” he says, mouth twisting into a silent laugh at some joke that you don’t get. He sets it down on the fur beside him and looks up at you seriously. “Are you ready, y/n? Do you truly wish to give yourself to me tonight?”

Your eyes gleam and you drop your dress to the floor as your answer. Ivar has been the one delaying this moment; you have been ready to feel him inside you since the first day he pulled you into a dark corner and kissed you until you could barely breathe.

Ivar’s eyes travel over your naked body, brow creasing with a lust that looks almost painful. “Come to me, then,” he orders, and you drop to your knees on the bed. Ivar still has his pants on so you start at his stomach, kissing the skin just below his navel, nipping and mouthing your way up toward his face as you crawl over him on hands and knees.

Your entire body is tingling with the need for his touch. You capture his lips in a hungry kiss as Ivar’s hands dance and slide all over your naked form, admiring you the way he was earlier admiring his favorite weapon. You moan and wiggle into him as his hands cup your ass, pulling and spreading you wide open without touching you in the places you want to feel him the most.

“I want you, Ivar,” you moan into his neck. The youngest son of Ragnar has been driving you crazy with his coyness.

“Mmmm, say that again,” Ivar replies, teasing you with his fingers between your legs, brushing only the very edge of your opening.

“I want you desperately, my Prince,” you say with enthusiasm. “How I have longed for you to touch me everywhere, to own my body, to make it yours.”

“Yes,” Ivar says through gritted teeth, sliding his fingers along your slit, so lightly, restrained even now. “Tonight I will possess you completely, y/n.”

You cannot bear to wait any longer. One hand slides down the planes of Ivar’s tightly contracted abs, searching for his cock.

Ivar rushes to stop you, but not before you feel the disappointing lack of hardness at his crotch. He grabs your wrist cruelly, pulling your palm back up to his stomach. “That is not the way I am going to take you,” he says.

You look up at Ivar’s face, sympathy ready in your eyes. You did not know Ivar’s disability extended to his manhood, but you know in a flash that this does not change how you feel about him.

You expected to see shame, doubt, some kind of insecurity in his eyes, but the strength of this son of Ragnar surprises you again. “Do not pity me. I have accepted who I am, how the gods have made me.” You see the truth of those words in his eyes. Ivar is calm, and strangely prideful in a moment that might break a lesser man. He leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I can still enjoy a woman in my own ways. And I promise you, I am about to give you such pleasures that you will be ruined for anyone else.”

Your pussy clenches at his words and you let him roll you onto your back. Now that Ivar’s secret is out he is firmly in control again, his big hands pushing your legs wide as he settles himself between them. Nuzzling his face into your stomach, Ivar caresses up and down your thighs. His warm palms are everything you’ve been dreaming of, laying claim to every part of your body.

He drags his hand over your core, thumb sliding finally between your lower lips. He makes a pleased noise when he finds the wetness that has been building there. “You were not exaggerating. Your body is so ready for me.”

“Yes, Ivar,” you cry, ready to sob under the suspense, pushing down worries at the back of your mind that you won’t end up satisfied without his cock being the way you had expected it. You try to have faith in your prince.

He presses a finger into you, testing your response. You can’t stop yourself from bucking against him; it feels so good. Ivar chuckles and immediately inserts a second. “You wanton thing. I love this about you, that you are not ashamed to show how much you desire me.” His fingers slide in and out slowly. His eyes are getting a faraway look, he is so focused on what you feel like under his fingers. You moan as he twists his wrist, fingertips coming to a spot inside you where the pleasure explodes out, ferocious and bright.

Ivar seems transfixed by the way your body writhes in time with his movements. He licks his perfect lips, leaves them parted as his breaths start coming harder. The motion of his hand increases in time with his enjoyment.

“Some women like this, too,” Ivar says, then brings his mouth to kiss just above your opening, as his fingers continue to pump into you. His tongue presses against your pleasure center there and you throw your head back and groan.

“All women like that, Ivar,” you can’t help but retort once you can breathe again.

“But you are not all women,” he breaks away to say, and you instantly regret starting a conversation and distracting that beautiful mouth. His fingers are still swirling lazily inside you. “And I want to know what it is that _you_ like most.”

You try to keep the sadness out of your eyes. He has just told you he can’t give you the thing that you love most about being with a man.

Ivar’s lips press together in an odd smirk. “Let me guess,” he says, sounding only a little bit disappointed. “You like to be fucked.” He starts pumping his fingers into you harder, faster, until you can’t keep looking into his brilliant eyes, you have to screw up your face and moan at the sharp, overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing you. He pauses, and you feel him add a third finger before resuming his punishing pace. Stars are exploding behind your eyes and you hear yourself mewling like a cat. Yes, this is what you want. You want to feel Ivar overwhelming your senses, stretching you to the limit.

His fingers slow and you struggle to catch your breath. Ivar pulls himself up a little higher on your body, mouthing over your chest as he rubs the heel of his hand over your clit and slowly removes his fingers from your cunt. “I want to fill you up too,” he murmurs into your skin. “I want to stretch you more than any other man ever will.” He rolls to lay by your side, propping himself up on one elbow but pushing you down so that you stay on your back in the center of the bed. He reaches across your body, grabs something laying forgotten on the fur beside your head.

His favorite axe.

Your cheeks burn as he lays the cold, heavy steel of the weapon’s head on your stomach, setting the polished handle to rest between your tits. You look down at the flawless finish on the aged wood. Nothing to catch on delicate skin. It’s wider than any cock you’ve ever seen. Infinitely longer. But your nipples harden and you can’t help but imagine Ivar working the smooth, angled tip of it between your slick folds.

“Are you going to…” you trail off, your voice small and your breaths coming much too quickly.

Ivar is resting his head on his hand almost smugly, watching your every reaction. “Say it.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly as flooded as your cunt. “Are you going to fuck me with that, Ivar?”

The pleased noise Ivar makes in the back of his throat then makes you shudder. He draws your face up to look at him with a gentle grip on your chin. “I want to,” he replies, eyes dark and deadly serious. “I want to make you scream and squirm until your pleasure breaks all over the same tool I use to spill the blood of my enemies.”

You clutch at him, almost too overcome to reply with words. “Do it,” you choke out. “I want you to take me, Ivar, in any way that you like.”

Ivar growls then, a deep animal noise of anticipation, and starts sliding his weapon slowly down your body.

The blunt side of the axehead touches you first, the iron cold and unforgiving as he draws it over your clit. You can’t help but shudder at the new sensation, and Ivar lifts the weapon off you instantly, searches your face for the meaning of this reaction.

You give him a weak smile, not wanting to discourage him, not entirely capable of looking enthusiastic about it either. “It was so cold, I was only surprised.”

“You are sure you want to let me do this,” he asks again.

You bite your lip and nod. Gods help you, the idea that Ivar wants to do something so unnatural to you is only turning you on more.

“I will make sure you are ready,” Ivar says, then settles his face between your thighs again.

He licks and sucks you until your legs are shaking and you start to wonder if he’s changed his mind and is going to just let you come like this. That would already be enough to prove he could satisfy you.

But Ivar is too ambitious to settle for such a simple way to conquer you. He pauses just as you are at the brink, looks up at you with shiny lips and points the axe handle at your face. “Wet it with your mouth, so it will be easier to take.”

You hesitate for only a moment, then lick your lips and do the second most humiliating thing that’s going to happen to you tonight. Ivar’s eyes flash from his position hovering over your throbbing cunt as you take the thick length of wood into your mouth, swirling your tongue around its tip until you are sure it’s coated in spit. His smile is black and beyond aroused as you lick down the shaft, making sure to wet it as far as you think it might go.

Ivar swirls his tongue over your clit until you moan again before reaching up to retrieve his weapon.

Your breaths start coming quickly again as you watch Ivar bring the gleaming wooden handle down between your legs. His eyes are riveted on your opening, which he gives one final sloppy lick before lifting his head and settling one of your legs over his shoulder. He rests his face against your inner thigh and begins panting almost as fast as you are as he slides the tapered tip of the axe’s handle against your entrance.

He has been teasing you for so long that you are sure that you are ready. The pressure is great as the handle of the axe stretches your opening wide, but you focus on the face of your lover and relax, welcoming him and this chosen extension of himself into your body.

Ivar’s eyes are rapt, his face slack and hollow as he watches his favorite weapon disappear into you inch by inch. Every time he meets resistance he slows, and twists it just a bit. “Y/n,” he breathes like a prayer. “You are doing so well.”

You moan and squirm a little against the terrible, steady pressure of Ivar working his axe inside of you. You know you will be sore later but for now you can barely call the feeling pain, so wrapped up in craving and desire as it is. Ivar is filling you, stretching you as no man ever has, and no man ever will.

“Do you think you can take more?” he whispers, “or should I stop here and just fuck you.”

You can’t even form words. It feels like all you can take right now, and your hands scramble over yourself. The feeling of that thick shaft sticking out of your cunt, Ivar’s hand just below it, draws a deep moan from your throat as you involuntarily bear down against it. “Fuck…” you say, and Ivar starts to slide it back and forth, oh so slowly.

“Keep touching yourself,” he urges, and you find that circling your clit with your fingertips does help turn the almost-pain into a deep, seemingly bottomless pleasure.

“Ivar…” you moan helplessly as soon your legs begin to shake again.

“That’s it, y/n,” Ivar says against the skin of your thigh. “Who is filling you up?”

“Ivar…”

He thrusts his axe into you faster, harder, and you feel him gaining ground again.

“Who is giving you a deeper pleasure than you ever thought possible?”

“Ivar…” you squeal, voice verging onto warning. You’re trying to tell him not to go too deep and also that you are about to come, all at once.

“That’s it, y/n, you’re such a good girl, taking so much for me. Just let the pleasure come.”

You look down and see the sick satisfaction in his eyes as he watches what he’s doing to you. You realize this is probably only the beginning of the perverted things he wants from you, and that fear is the last thing you needed to send you spiraling over the edge of your orgasm. Your walls contract frantically over the thickness stretching them so mercilessly, which launches your pleasure up to heights you have never experienced before. Your whole body tenses around Ivar and his weapon, and you’re no longer sure what kind of sounds you are making.

As soon as your pleasure starts to dip, you need it out of you. Ivar reads this easily enough in your clutching hands and eases the polished wood back in a steady retreat. You lay there gasping as Ivar crawls up alongside you again, sets his axe to the side and gathers you up into his arms. Everything below your waist is warm and tingling, more satisfied than you have ever felt in your life. Ivar is stroking you and growling soft little noises of appreciation and pleasure of his own. “Y/n, you are incredible,” he whispers. “I am never going to let you go.”


End file.
